


Fights as Love Bites

by editingatwork



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Chirping, M/M, Strong Language, hockey violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "Kent and Alexei are secretly together but no one else knows about it and they maintain a vicious rivalry to keep up their images."





	

It starts small.

Chirping, mostly. Just on the ice, and just small things.

“You aiming for net, Parson, or post?”

“Hey Tater, you know the goal is that way, right?”

“Does Aces coach know you here, Parson?”

“Who cut your hair, your lawnmower?”

Before long, it gets physical. Shoving, stick interference, extra checking. Still friendly-ish, still within the limits of normal hockey violence, but the teams—and the fans—notice. Halfway through the season, “Mashkov-Parson rivalry” is the third most-googled hockey topic, after “Sidney Crosby” and “Jack Zimmermann’s ass.”

\--

“Geez, Parser.” Kent isn’t looking at Swoops as he climbs into the penalty box beside him, but he can hear the wince in his friend’s voice. “Bit much, don’t you think?”

Kent shrugs and flops down onto the bench. “He was in my way.”

“You didn’t have to _elbow_ the guy. In the _face_.”

“He’s had worse.” Kent grabs a water bottle and sprays Gatorade in his mouth. “He’s an enforcer, he’s _done_ worse.”

“I guess,” Swoops says. He sounds dubious. “Hope it was worth the five minute power play you just gave the Falcs.”

“You’re back in soon. Give ‘em hell for me.”

“Your brand of ‘give ‘em hell’ is starting to worry me,” Swoops says, and just then he gets the signal to head back in. “See you on the ice.”

Tater is still on the ice, a battering ram with legs. There’s an elbow-sized bruise forming on his temple. When he skates by the box, he catches Kent’s eye and smirks.

Kent gives him the finger, and settles back to wait out the rest of his penalty time.

\--

**@therealkvp**

**Had a great time at the @YouCanPlay Youth Program Charity Skate event this wknd! Even midseason it’s good to help out a great cause.**

**@alexeimashkov**

**@therealkvp You attend @YouCanPlay charity skate? Not see u there. Maybe because you and kids same size.  )))**

**@therealkvp**

**@alexeimashkov Hey, at least I’m not tripping over my own feet during free skate. ;) Instagram.com/p/PMuikL…**

**@alexeimashkov**

**im trip over small child, is you?**

**@therealkvp**

**we’re gonna kick ur asses this weekend, bro, u cant keep up with me**

**@alexeimashkov**

**im need find u first, so small. U have regulation size stick or have made special for being closer to ice?**

**@therealkvp**

**u check like a kindergartener.**

**@alexeimashkov**

**before game you should paint target in Falcs goal so u are knowing where to shoot.**

**@therealkvp**

**ive got more goals than you’ve got shifts.**

**@alexeimashkov**

**im hear better chirps from dead bird.**

**@therealkvp**

**ill bet ur goalie is great at dodgeball.**

**@nateSWOOPS**

**OMFG @therealkvp @alexeimashkov , Get off Twitter!**

\--

Their final game before the playoffs is in Vegas, on Kent’s home turf.

No sooner have their skates hit the ice than they’re up in each other’s space, pushing and shoving and fighting for the puck.

Tater trips him near the goal and gets a penalty. As soon as he’s back in, Kent checks him bodily and gets a penalty in return.

“Another, please!” Tater yells at him as Kent skates to the box.

When Kent gets back in, he makes a point of giving the Falcs’ goalie a snow shower.

Tater is five feet away. He drops his stick, sheds his gloves, and is on Kent in seconds.

They’re both slapped with a ten-minute misconduct penalty and finish the period icing various bruises in their respective boxes.

Tater is put back in the game afterwards, but Kent is benched until the last nine minutes of the third period. The Aces coach gives him a stern look and says, “Think you can handle playing hockey and not pulling shit for the rest of the game?”

Kent nods.

“Get out there.”

Kent does not pull shit for the rest of the game. The Falcs win, anyway.

The teams shake hands and Tater mutters to him, “Is hard to eat with no hands?” while wearing a shit-eating grin. Kent resists the urge to give him a second black eye and says, “You suck,” which just leaves Tater laughing as he goes down the rest of the line.

\--

Later, Tater shows up at Kent’s apartment door. Kent yanks him inside by his jacket and pushes him into the wall hard enough to make the doorjamb rattle. They make out sloppily, teeth clashing and hands pulling on clothes and skin. Tater sucks on Kent’s split lip until it stings enough to make him whine.

“Careful,” Tater purrs as he rucks up Kent’s shirt and sticks his hands down Kent’s sweatpants to squeeze his ass. “Make noise like that, I’m starting think you like pain a little.”

“Yeah? Ahh, fuck.” Tater gets a leg between Kent’s, pushes into Kent’s dick. Kent widens his stance and rides it. “I think you like giving it to me.”

“I do.” Tater pulls him close and ducks to kiss a light bruise on Kent’s collarbone. “I like fighting you. I like you fighting me.”

Tater’s thick thigh is still wedged up against Kent’s hard cock, rubbing him against it and driving Kent insane. Kent groans and says, “I know we—ah, fuck—Look, I know we started this rivalry shit to cover for the, uh. The fucking.”

Tater huffs a laugh and starts kissing his way up Kent’s neck, slow and wet. “I like the fucking.”

Kent tips his head sideways and grabs Tater’s hair to encourage him. “Holy shit, me too. But, um. If you want to, you know, tone down the fighting. I’d be cool with that.”

Tater stops kissing and looks up.

“If you want,” Kent reiterates. His gaze goes to the swollen state of Tater’s eye. Kent himself is black and blue all over, some from practice yesterday and some the normal bangs and scrapes from a hockey game, but the worst of it is due to Tater.

Tater keeps grinding Kent against his leg—fucking distracting, that is—but pulls a hand out of Kent’s pants to brush blonde hair from his face. “Do you want?”

“Do I want the fighting, or do I want to stop?”

“Both.”

Kent licks his lips, tastes blood. “For my team’s sake, I should probably stop getting so many penalties. But.”

Tater’s smirk is slow and pondering. “But maybe you liking the pain, a little.”

“And maybe you like giving it to me.”

Tater hums. “Is not hurting you that I like. I like…touching you.”

Kent’s breath catches a little. “Yeah?”

“Yes. And here. Little marks.” He skates his thumb over Kent’s bottom lip. “All mine.”

Kent licks his lips, catches Tater’s finger. “I like the pain a little,” he admits. “I like that it’s from you.”

Tater nods. “So we are fight less, but not stop?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” Tater kisses him, soft this time, his tongue invading Kent’s mouth so deep it pries a moan from him. When they separate, Tater stills his grind into Kent’s crotch and asks, teasing, “And the fucking? Stop or not stop? Because if is too much—”

Kent thumps him on the chest. “You suck.”

“Mm, I can.” Tater flips them so Kent’s back is to the wall. The next thing Kent knows, Tater is on his knees. He nuzzles the wet spot at the front of Kent’s sweats and says, “If you apologize for snow shower on Falcs goalie.”

“Are you serious?”

Tater looks up and lifts an eyebrow.

“Fine. Sorry. It was a dirty move and I knew it when I did it.”

“Yes. Fighting is between you and me, not teammates.”

Kent blows out a breath. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Thank you.” Deftly he tugs the drawstring loose and pulls Kent’s pants and boxers down his hips. “I’m make you scream, now.”

Kent bites his lip and braces himself.

Tater does not disappoint.

**Author's Note:**

> join me in rarepair hell on [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
